


Blue Ain't Your Colour

by Kindassunshine



Category: Bleach
Genre: Biting, Canon-Typical Violence, Handcuffs, M/M, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 23:30:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11218485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kindassunshine/pseuds/Kindassunshine
Summary: ‘I’m not so sure,’ Aizen murmured, he was smiling now too and Grimmjow had to fight hard not to shiver, ‘Why don’t you show Kisuke what else you can do with that mouth, Grimmjow?’Aizen has a creative way to punish his wayward Espada, while also settling old scores from a hundred years past.Set shortly before the Winter War (but also before Grimmjow's first appearance! And also before...)





	Blue Ain't Your Colour

**Author's Note:**

> And yes, Gin is carrying handcuffs with him ALL THE TIME...
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Grimmjow glared at Ulquiorra’s heels as he was led into the meeting room. He didn’t have to look up to sense the other Espada gathered about the long table – the throb of the lower ranking right up to Starrk’s unending roar. He kept his head down, not wanting his follows to think he gave damn about whatever punishment Aizen had in store for him.   
He stopped when Ulquiorra did. They must look like mismatched bookends Grimmjow thought, distantly amused, both standing stiffly with their hands in their pockets.   
‘Grimmjow,’ Aizen murmured and Grimmjow looked up without raising his head. The two Shinigami flanked Aizen, who sat with an air of collected calm. He bared his teeth.   
‘Lord Aizen,’ he grunted back. Ulquiorra shifted slightly – perhaps he was surprised by the polite term of address. Aizen smirked easily, sipping his tea.   
‘You have behaved badly again,’ Aizen told him, dark eyes moving over his face. Grimmjow grunted folding his arms around his chest.   
He would have liked to point out that it hadn’t been entirely his fault – that dumb shit Nnoitra had started it – and he hadn’t known the Gran Rey Cero would blow a hole in the roof. Aizen was watching him tapping his fingers on his armrest.   
‘What should I do with you?’ Aizen sighed, ‘are you really beyond controlling, Sexta?’ he ran his eyes lazily over Grimmjow – it made his hierro crawl.   
‘What do you want me to say?’ he snarled, throat burning. He was sick of this shit. Sick of Las Noches and it’s absurd rules, sick of having to act like he gave a damn.   
‘I wonder…’ Aizen smirked, clearly unperturbed by his outburst. He lifted a hand, beckoning the smiling Shinigami to him. Ichimaru bent to listen, silvery hair brushing against Aizen’s cheek. He laughed – the sound stiffening the posture of every Espada in the room. From the corner of his eye Grimmjow could see Ulquiorra’s eyes burning even through his dull expression.  
Not good, he surmised as Ichimaru straightened. Slipping from his hip pocket what Grimmjow realised were dark metal handcuffs, Ichimaru smirked at him spinning them on one long finger.   
‘Hands,’ he murmured holding both of his own, palms up. Grimmjow felt his jaw clench. There was nothing he wanted less then to yield to this Shinigami.  
‘Hands Sexta,’ he repeated voice still silky and Grimmjow felt the slightest tremor of reiatsu along his senses. He held his hands out, arms stiff, forcing them to unclench from fists and the handcuffs closed with a snap.   
He gasped feeling his knees fold, barely able to keep himself upright as an acute pain suddenly burst through his body. The hole in his stomach burning like it was going to rip him in half.   
‘My, my,’ Ichimaru murmured as Aizen stood quickly, moving to Grimmjow gripping the back on his neck. The pain lessened gradually and Grimmjow took a shaking breath.   
‘Takes a moment to readjust,’ Aizen murmured to the other Shinigami who shrugged.   
‘Would you like a reading, Lord Aizen?’ Tosen asked taking a step forward.  
‘That won’t be necessary, thank you Kaname,’ Aizen spoke quietly and Grimmjow wished he would let him go. Though the pain was no longer breath taking but his Hollow hole was still aching at the proximity of the Shinigami.   
‘The handcuffs are suppressing your reiatsu,’ Aizen spoke straightening and Grimmjow glanced up guessing it was him being addressed. ‘They were designed for use on Shinigami – you had a bad reaction as your reiatsu is closer to that of a Hollow.’  
‘And?’ Grimmjow grunted, burning with a mixture of humiliation and barely suppressed rage. He hadn’t thought it was possible to hate him more.   
‘Please do not attempt to use your reiatsu or your current form is likely to become unstable,’ Aizen smiled down at him benevolently. Grimmjow glared back silent, wondering what these preliminaries were leading up to.   
‘Ulquiorra – the Garganta,’ Aizen murmured apparently satisfied his Sexta wasn’t going to rip himself apart. Grimmjow’s head snapped to the other Espada, whose expression was as close to taken aback as he looked capable of. ‘Gin,’ Aizen added stepping forwards towards the newly opened portal. Grimmjow felt his lip curl – what the Hell was Aizen planning?   
‘Oh? I’m coming too?’ Ichimaru sighed, hopping up from where he’d be perched on the arm of Aizen’s vacated chair.   
‘He won’t be able to make footholds like that,’ Aizen shrugged, then added with a smirk, ‘besides I’m visiting a mutual acquaintance of ours.’   
‘What are up to, Captain?’ he chuckled, catching Grimmjow by the upper arm pulling him roughly to his feet. Grimmjow snarled at him but was instantly silenced by another unbearable wave of pain. ‘Oops,’ Ichimaru’s mouth curved, ‘must’ve reacted to my reiatsu – hope it didn’t hurt too bad.’   
Grimmjow grit his teeth as he was half dragged towards the Garganta. He growled wriggling as he felt Ichimaru’s arm snake around his waist pulling him against his back flush against the Shinigami’s chest.   
‘Ah-ah-ah,’ he chuckled as Grimmjow fidgeted aware of the table of Espada’s eyes on him, ‘you don’t wanna fall now, do you Sexta?’ Grimmjow could feel warm breath on him cheek, then a nose press behind his ear and heard a soft inhale.   
‘Get off me,’ he growled, ducking into his chin into his shoulder, squirming.   
‘I’m gonna get off on you if keep that up,’ Ichimaru muttered, arm around his waist tightening briefly so he could feel the hilt a Zanpukuto digging into his lower back. Grimmjow snarled but stilled, allowing himself to be drawn into the dark space between the worlds.

They alighted on a silent street. It was night in The World of The Living. Grimmjow couldn’t tell if it was early or late, time was quite difficult to understand when you were used to the unending stasis of Hueco Mundo. The ground was wet but it was no longer raining and the air felt cool, clean somehow as if the rain had cleansed it.   
‘Oh dear,’ Ichimaru murmured trotting in step with Grimmjow, trialling their leader, hand still resting absently on his wrist held before him fingertips over his pulse. Although he didn’t want the Shinigami’s hands anywhere on him, his touch seemed to be reliving some of the handcuff’s side-effects so he bit back any complaints.  
‘It’s not a problem,’ Aizen muttered without adjusting his pace and Ichimaru chuckled.  
‘Perhaps not for you, Captain,’ he smirked and Grimmjow glanced in the direction the Shinigami was looking wondering what he could sense. With his own senses severely curtailed by the handcuffs he felt like he was stumbling about in the dark.   
‘We are here,’ Aizen murmured pausing as Ichimaru tugged Grimmjow to a halt, ‘I’m going to ask you not to speak, unless you’re spoken to, Grimmjow,’ he added eyes flashing in the low light.  
‘Whatever,’ Grimmjow grunted, only to have Ichimaru’s elbow dig in his ribs, ‘yes, Lord Aizen,’ he corrected himself with a snarl.  
They ducked under the half-open shutter of a small shop. Grimmjow could vaguely feel a Kido restriction sliding over him as they advanced and guessed Aizen had simply bent the barrier around them.   
‘We’re closed I’m afraid–’ called a man sandy haired man lightly. He was on his tiptoes at the top of a stepladder awkwardly shunting cardboard boxes onto a high shelf with his back to them. Grimmjow glanced at Ichimaru as he was pulled towards the back of the store in Aizen’s wake.   
‘And we’re not customers I’m afraid, Captain Urahara,’ Ichimaru chucked.   
‘Oh! Forgive me,’ the man – Urahara, Grimmjow surmised – laughed alighting on the shop floor fan in hand before the box he had been holding hit the ground. A Flashstep, Grimmjow exhaled softly. So he was a Shinigami then, although he smelt like a human, and a Captain. Which meant he was somewhere at Ichimaru’s level – Grimmjow made a point to concentrate as little as possible during briefings but this much had managed to soak in. Not good, he decided shifting his stance, wishing very fervently he wasn’t wearing the heavy cuffs.   
He looked Urahara over, assessing. He was tall for a human, not built too heavily and clearly he was fast. He wasn’t wearing a sword, unlike Ichimaru or Aizen. Grimmjow glanced around briefly, spotting a cane lying innocently on the counter and feeling a flicker of burning reiatsu.   
‘Forgive me,’ Urahara muttered, ‘my eyesight is getting bad in my old age – I hardly recognised you Captain Aizen… although I guess I shouldn’t call you that,’ the fan flickered, ‘I hardly know what to call you.’ Grimmjow could hear Ichimaru snort softly.   
‘Kisuke Urahara,’ Aizen murmured his voice deep and pleasant, ‘you look well.’   
‘Are you having a craving for something in particular?’ he asked brightly gesturing down the shelves. The false joviality put Grimmjow’s teeth on edge.   
‘I have everything I need from you,’ Aizen smirked, touching the centre of his chest absently.  
‘So I heard,’ the man murmured.   
‘Aren’t you going to offer us a drink?’ Aizen’s voice was even but, despite his blunted senses, Grimmjow could free the tingle of his reiatsu.  
‘Why, of course,’ Urahara bowed, turning and slipping from the room. Aizen strode ahead with Ichimaru following, pulling Grimmjow by the wrists. He moved reluctantly, wondering if he would actually lose his mind if he had to drink any more tea.   
Urahara led them into a sitting room, settling himself comfortably cross-legged and looking up at the trio from Hueco Mundo attentively.   
‘I thought you would like to see the fruits of you labour,’ Aizen added and Grimmjow straightened automatically as the attention of the room shifted to him. Ichimaru pulled him forwards by the wrists, tripping him so he landed hard on his elbows and knees before the other Shinigami. The loss of contact with Ichimaru’s reiatsu causing another wave of nauseating pain to wash over him, he pushed himself up to a kneeling position ignoring it.   
‘I can hardly take credit for your work, Mr Aizen,’ Urahara murmured moving closer to Grimmjow, fan touching lightly beneath his chin so he would lift it exposing the smooth column of his throat. ‘A broken mask,’ he spoke under his breath so softly Grimmjow thought he was the only one that heard.   
‘Arrancar,’ Aizen supplied seating himself though he was not invited. He was smiling at the other Shinigami in a way Grimmjow hoped he never smiled at him.   
‘You missed a bit,’ Urahara snorted, slapping the fragment of mask with the flat of his fan. Grimmjow grit his teeth – not sure he could take much more manhandling by Shinigami tonight. ‘Can it speak?’ Urahara asked suddenly eyes moving over Grimmjow accessing in much the same way the Arrancar had done to him moments before.   
‘I’m not sure,’ Ichimaru cackled sitting too knee bumping Aizen’s as he did, ‘can you speak, Grimmjow? Why don’t tell you Mr Urahara how grateful you are to Lord Aizen for your existence?’ Grimmjow glowered at Ichimaru whose eyes gleamed gleefully.   
‘I’m grateful,’ Grimmjow ground out as the man stood beginning to circle him, ‘… to Lord Aizen,’ he added as soft dark eyes met his.   
‘How many Arrancar are there?’ Urahara asked him lightly and he could feel a fingertip trace the six on his back, an unfamiliar reiatsu softening the pain caused by the handcuffs a little. Grimmjow pressed back into the touch as much as he dared.   
‘I don’t fucking know,’ he grunted attempting to fold his arms before remembering his was bound at the wrists. He let his hands drop frustrated. Urahara moved away to sit before him and Grimmjow felt his abdomen clench as the roiling nausea returned.   
‘I think that’s enough of a demonstration,’ Ichimaru told Grimmjow cheerfully and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself swearing at the grinning Shinigami.   
‘I’m not so sure,’ Aizen murmured, he was smiling now too and Grimmjow had to fight hard not to shiver, ‘Why don’t you show Kisuke what else you can do with that mouth, Grimmjow?’  
Before Grimmjow had even begun to process the implication several things happened in short succession. Urahara had tried to stand and was swiftly pinned by Ichimaru. He’d slammed the other on to his back, his suddenly unsheathed Zanpukuto digging into the mat just above Urahara’s shoulder – the extended blade tucked with deadly accuracy just under his jawline.   
‘My, my,’ he chuckled, ‘that gigai slows you down rather a lot doesn’t it? – Price you pay for shoddy handiwork I suppose.’   
‘You’ve improved,’ Urahara murmured looking up at him, head nestled between the other’s spread knees, and Ichimaru snickered. Urahara had lost his hat and Grimmjow could smell blood but he wasn’t sure from where.   
‘Maybe you just got dull,’ he smirked, ‘come on now – relax – don’t worry this one’s all bark no bite.’ Grimmjow snorted, showing the man all his teeth. Under the encouragement of Ichimaru’s blade Urahara complied hands unclenching and body softening. Ichimaru trapped Urahara’s forearms beneath his knees, so his entire upper body was immobilised. Guessing this was his cue Grimmjow wriggled forwards.  
‘Can’t you take these off?’ he grumbled, clinching the cuffs now he was facing Ichimaru but received no response beyond a smirk.   
‘You know what to do, right?’ he murmured, glancing briefly over Grimmjow’s shoulder.   
‘Yeah,’ he grunted glancing along the length of the prone body. Honestly, he didn’t totally get it. He guessed a hot mouth wrapped around his cock didn’t feel so bad and spunk wasn’t the worse thing he’d eaten – and the glut of reiatsu at the climax was pretty great. But it still didn’t come close to the thrill of spilling blood, of ripping limb from limb, of cracking bone with his own hands.   
‘Go ahead, Grimmjow,’ Aizen murmured from behind him and Grimmjow realised he’d been staring into space.   
‘Whatever,’ he muttered under his breath, beginning to tug the Shinigami’s robe open but he was wriggling again, writhing in Ichimaru’s grip. ‘Stop,’ Grimmjow grunted at him, ‘I’m not going to fucking hurt you.’ Ichimaru chuckled, humming softly when the other obediently stilled.  
Grimmjow resumed stripping him, pulling his robe open to show most of his torso. He bit through the tie at his waist then tugged at the fabric, harder than he should have since it ripped down most of the leg as well.   
‘You’re clumsy, Sexta,’ Ichimaru snorted but his voice was softer and deeper then Grimmjow had heard directed at him before. He glanced at the other, suddenly wondering if the cuddling in the Garganta earlier had been more than an intimidation tactic.   
Grimmjow didn’t speak, running the back of his knuckles against the man’s bare thigh conscious of how sharp his nails were even in his unreleased state. The ache at the edges of his Hollow hole had eased as soon as his skin had met the Shinigami’s.   
Urahara shifted, eyes closing and head twisting into a grinning Ichimaru’s folded leg. Grimmjow liked the feeling of the soft blond hairs against his knuckles – there was fine hair on his stomach too, below his navel, and across his chest curling a little at his nipples. He wasn’t sure what it was he’d liked so much about it. The man’s skin was so unlike the smooth whiteness of bone.  
He pressed with his knuckles into the fold of the man’s hip a little, eliciting a soft exhale, and he could feel his pelvis tipping up into the touch. Grimmjow let his fist encircle the other’s cock, again irritated by the cuffs. His hips twitched and Grimmjow smirked watching him struggle against the desire. He rubbed carefully until he could feel it thickening and lengthening in his hand then lowered his mouth.   
He fitted his mouth around the smooth flesh, hyper aware of the length of his incisors. He sucked, tongue flickering curiously – it tasted vaguely of salted meat. He shifted forwards weight resting on his palms, carefully sliding his mouth back and down again repeatedly. He glanced up feeling the body beneath his squirming again. Ichimaru rolled his eyes at him then his face cracked into to grin.  
‘Do you like that, huh?’ he muttered to the man he had pinned. Grimmjow resumed licking and sucking him, watching as his back arched. ‘Come on,’ Ichimaru chuckled, ‘he’s looks worried – you better give him a little encouragement.’ The smell of blood grew stronger and Grimmjow thought Ichimaru had pressed the blade into Urahara’s throat.   
‘I like it,’ came the response in a rasp, ‘it feels… good,’ he gasped, hips pushing up. Grimmjow relaxed his jaw letting him thrust how he liked for a moment before sucking hard again. He must be close, Grimmjow thought, with his mouth on him he couldn’t help but feel the building peak of reiatsu.   
He lowered his head again letting the length slide to the back of his throat. He could feel the spark before burning reiatsu was flooding into him as hot fluid filled his mouth. He gasped pulling back shocked – exactly how powerful was this guy?   
And exactly how powerful was that guy? He wondered glancing at Aizen, if he could stroll in and use a person like this for his little sex show on a whim. But it didn’t matter, the reiatsu had wetted an appetite he thought he’d lost with his mask.   
Eyes gleaming as they met Ichimaru’s he twisted, as sudden as a viper, sinking his teeth deeply into the thick part of the Shinigami’s thigh.   
He laughed, hearing Ichimaru’s sharp curse as the man roared, licking blood from his lips as he straightened. He was amused by the almost perfect oval his teeth had left on the pale skin.  
Ichimaru growled tipped backwards as Urahara surged upwards, pulling himself into a crouch – thigh trembling now unable to bear his weight.   
‘Get up,’ Ichimaru grunted at Grimmjow, pulling himself up and sheathing his Zanpukuto. Grimmjow stood too and Ichimaru took a firm grip of him, ‘are we going back, Captain?’  
‘Ah,’ Aizen agreed already standing, eyes on the half dress man, ‘you’re going to lose Kisuke Urahara,’ he spoke pleasantly, ‘and know that you are still alive because you amuse me – that is the only reason.’   
Grimmjow had the distinct impression that this was the reason most beings in Aizen’s vicinity remained alive. The man didn’t speak, but continued looking silently at Aizen who turned away with the softest snort.   
‘I’m not the one who’s going to lose,’ he muttered as Aizen reached the door, Grimmjow and Ichimaru in tow. Grimmjow wondered if Aizen would kill him now – he would have. Or perhaps he would just devour him whole. He licked his lips absently as they waited.   
But Aizen didn’t seem to be in the mood since they strode back out of the shop and ducked under half open shutter, the way they had entered.  
Finally removing the cuffs, leaving him groaning in relief, Ichimaru gruffly ordered Grimmjow to open the Garganta. He complied, unexpectedly relieved at the familiar scent of Hueco Mundo on the rushing wind between the worlds.

**Author's Note:**

> N.B. Okay its off topic I'll admit... but is anyone reading Blue Exorcist?! I get a striking Urahara vibe off Lighting, and I know it's like a stock-anime-character-with-a-hat thing but the feeling is so powerful! :D
> 
> And I'll tell you what's more worrying I haven't written for Bleach in over a year and I can still spell Ulquiorra without checking - not a useful Life Skill! ...apart from this one very specific part of my life...


End file.
